


Desire

by kolvina



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pork and Peaches, Porn with Feelings, Strippers & Strip Clubs, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolvina/pseuds/kolvina
Summary: As a way to collect information regarding Jeremiah Valeska’s whereabouts, Bruce Wayne goes to a stripclub.He isn’t expecting to actually see Jeremiah there.





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Church of Jeremiah Valeska](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Church+of+Jeremiah+Valeska).



> this fic is specifically for the church of jeremiah valeska group on discord, y’all lit. shout out to everyone who helped with this, including doe who proofread the majority of the story and zoe who had the original convo with me that sparked this. love u guys

The GCPD was drastically outnumbered, and everyone was cognizant of that fact. Ever since the bridges blew, there hadn’t many people left that had actually wanted to save Gotham. The criminal gangs had seemingly grown, taking over the majority of territory, and the group of good guys had been dwindling slowly. Still, the few that were left were trying their hardest to reclaim to city, and there efforts weren’t guileless. Things had been looking up for a while, mostly after Selina had killed Jeremiah and the GCPD started getting a better handle on things, but of course that didn’t last long, because Jeremiah apparently never died and he now had taken a bunch of territory, so they were kind of screwed in that regard.

The precinct was trying their hardest to take him down. He had been leaving bodies around the city, taking out everyone that stood in his way. He was a force of nature - a force to be reckoned with.

So when the GCPD finally received some intel regarding Jeremiah’s whereabouts, they couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Barbara had heard that there was a woman (who went by Peaché, which caused a few raised eyebrows) that apparently had been seen with Ecco, which meant she could’ve possibly known where Jeremiah was.

Barbara gave them Peaché’s location, a strip club, out of all places, just outside the green area. Jim was going to go, but Barbara quickly dismissed the idea, saying he didn’t fit the criteria. Mostly younger men went, younger _attractive_ men she said. Plus, Jim was busy, he had been dealing with the aftermath of the Haven bombing and was trying to get everything settled again. Everyone was busy. Well, everyone besides Bruce.

 

So, he decided to go.

 

Jim was a bit reluctant at first, but Bruce had been helping the GCPD quite successfully ever since the bridges blew. Barbara had agreed, saying that he fit the apparent criteria, and that she would let the strip club know he was coming, because a billionaire like him at their establishment would be more than welcome. He went through a couple of as Bullock calls them ‘training courses’ where him and Jim just told him the do’s and don'ts of undercover work for about twenty minutes, then sent him on his way. Alfred of course gave him a small pep talk before he left, and told him to be careful as usual.

It's a decently long walk to the club, and when he gets there he instantly goes to the bar. The music is loud and the lights are a bit blinding, the entire atmosphere is not particularly enjoyable for him. It gives him slight flashbacks to when he went on his bender, he once spent two entire days in a bar, getting wasted and trying to party away his issues.

 He spots her easily. She is just as Barbara had described. She’s wearing all white, a short white dress paired with white platforms heels, along with small wings attached to her back. The only outlier was her hair, peach-colored, hence her name. Clever. Bruce waits for the bartender to give him his beverage, a glass of whiskey on the rocks, before he wages over to her slowly, making sure not to draw much attention to himself. She is sifting her way through the crowd, earning a few wolf whistles from some of the patrons as she does so, Bruce waits until she’s in a place where the crowd is less heavy, and steps out in front of her.

  
“Nice to meet you Peaché, I’m-“  
He begins.

“Bruce Wayne, I’m aware,” Peaché states swiftly, interrupting him, her painted bright red lips moving quickly, “They told me you’d come here.”

“They?” Bruce questions, not quite sure what she meant by that. Could this be a set up? It was possible. Barbara wasn’t the most reliable person, and neither was her intel.

 “The owners? Barbara Kean said you were willing to offer good money for a good time” Peaché clarifies, raising her sculpted eyebrow as if she could see right through Bruce, “But I’m assuming that isn’t why, I’m assuming you want information”

 Bruce narrows his eyebrows suspiciously at her. They weren’t sure if she was aware of who Ecco was but this proved that, and also proved that she probably did in fact know Jeremiah’s whereabouts then. Before he can even respond she is grabbing his hand, leading him to the bright red sofa nearby.

 “What are you doing?” Bruce all but yelps as she pulls him down to sit, and stands in front of him. He almost spills his drink on himself by the force of her push.

 “We gotta make it look like we aren’t just talking, otherwise someone will notice” She tutts, as if that were obvious. He frowns widely at this.

 “I don’t want to do that though” He tells her, still frowning. This was in no way professional, nor did it seem necessary.

 “Kid, never said I wanted to either” She merely replies, continuing to dance around him. She is careful not to touch him, which he appreciates immensely but still he feels drastically uncomfortable, he feels exposed and vulnerable, and anything but turned on like these dances were supposedly supposed to make you feel.

 “You know I want information, so give it to me” Bruce all but snaps, she is twirling her hips, only a centimeter away from touching him.“I will” Peaché says as she twirls, causing her long locks of hair to flow in the air. He just tries to ignore her, keep his attention elsewhere, and then something catches his eye, and he completely freezes.

  
Because it’s Jeremiah.

 

It’s Jeremiah Valeska.

  
He is obviously in disguise, his pale white skin covered with makeup, yet still he is _so_ obviously Jeremiah.

But that’s not what Bruce is shocked by.

  
He’s wearing nothing else aside from gold booty shorts, a long trench-like dark cloak, and a necklace. And he’s _dancing_. He’s dancing on the stage, and it’s not at all PG.

Bruce promptly spits his whiskey on the girl in front of him and she _screeches_ , _loud_ , loud enough to break through the pounding music of the club. Loud enough that it catches Jeremiah’s attention, and he sees Bruce. His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then he just smirks. That fucker _smirks_. He continues dancing, moving his hips in a way that should be illegal, but now his eyes are on Bruce, and _oh my god_.   
  
“What the _hell_ , Wayne!” Peaché is breaking through his slightly unholy thoughts, which Bruce should probably thank her for, honestly.   
  
“I’m sorry!” He squeaks out, realizing that he has left deep golden brown stains all over her white clothes, “Here let me help you,” Bruce quickly grabs the napkins off the table, giving them to Peaché, “I can pay for a new outfit for you!”  
  
He looks back to Jeremiah, and...

 

 _Jesus_ , he’s wearing eyeliner. He licks his lips slightly and Bruce is short circuiting. He knows this was a setup at this point. The information was probably fed to Barbara for this reason specifically. Peaché was just a pawn. They were trying to lure Bruce here.

  
“You know, when you refused to let me dance with you this isn’t what I was expecting as to why,” Peaché comments as she dabs the napkin on her clavicle, soaking up some of the whiskey droplets.   
  
“What?” Bruce asks, not even quite processing her statement. Should he go up there and tackle him? Should he ask what the hell he’s even doing here? Wearing those clothes? Or, well, lack thereof. Maybe he could do both, but which should he do first...  
  
She laughs, stopping Bruce’s train of thought, and he looks back to her again as she’s giving him a knowing look, “That’s Jester, he’s new.”  
  
Bruce frowns. _Seriously? Jester?_

“Thank you for your time, Peaché” he says, pulling out his wallet and unceremoniously handing her five hundred dollars. She blinks at him, an eyebrow raised and watches as he swiftly crosses the room.  
  
He storms directly to the small stage in the middle of the club where Jeremiah is dancing. He is enraptured almost all of the patrons, he is extremely good at dancing, which slightly confuses Bruce seeing as supposedly he had spent most of his life in a bunker. Is this how he spent his time down there?  
  
“Jester,” Bruce spits out the name when he’s right next to the stage. Jeremiah looks at him with a pleased expression, as if he was genuinely happy to see Bruce seething in front of him. He then hops off the stage to stand directly in front of him, earning a few boos from the crowd.  
  
“Would you like a dance?” Jeremiah asks in his usual dramatic drawl and Bruce hates to admit it but he missed his voice, he missed his stupid gestures and excessive flair, “it’s usually $50, but I can make a deal for you.”  
  
“ _What the hell are you doing!_ ” Bruce whispers in anger, trying not to gain the attention of anyone around him. He’s probably failing, but he’s too upset to even care.

“What do you mean Bruce? I’m _working_ ,” Jeremiah says with a smirk.  
  
“Jeremiah, what game are you playing?” Bruce is growing impatient.  
  
“Like I said, $50 for a dance” Jeremiah smiles brightly, the bright strobe lights of the club somehow giving him an ethereal glow.

Bruce is about to speak, about to yell at him and force him to tell him what’s going on, but then Jeremiah pushes his chest, causing him to fall back on a chair that he didn't even know what behind him. Bruce can’t even comprehend what just happened, let alone think to stop it. Suddenly, Jeremiah’s hands are placed on both of his shoulders, and he is stepping in between Bruce’s parted legs   
It’s much different from Peaché’s lap dance, because Jeremiah is actually touching him, openly and freely, not abiding to any rules. He grinds his hips down towards Bruce, and then suddenly he’s suddenly straddling Bruce on the chair, and Bruce feels as if all the air has been sucked from his lungs.

  
“You know, they have private rooms here...” Jeremiah whispers in his ear, and Bruce feels dizzy. He can’t help the feeling of arousal that’s coursing through him, nor is he sure if he even wants to. He knows it’s a terrible idea to agree, but his mind throws out all of the cons and just thinks _maybe getting him private would be the best way to question him_ , and that’s apparently good enough for him.

 “Whatever, Jeremiah” Bruce says roughly, ignoring Jeremiah’s smirk and outstretched hand. Jeremiah raises an eyebrow at this, but just continues smiling and leads the way through the club, all the way to two big shiny gold doors. There are bodyguards outside the doors, but they merely nod when they see Jeremiah and open the doors for them, allowing Jeremiah to lead him back to a darkened hallway.

 Jeremiah goes to the door that says _honeymoon suite_ , because _of course he does_. Bruce doesn’t say anything as he follows. Despite the fact that he kind of wants to chew Jeremiah’s head off, there’s also a part of him that wants to cling onto Jeremiah and never let go. His brain was at war with itself and he honestly wasn’t quite sure what to do. Bruce was never the best at processing emotions, nearly everyone knew that, but this situation brought him onto a completely new level.

The room is surprisingly elegant, Bruce notes. It seemed to be out of place in the trashy club. The room had gold trim, and dark red undertones lacing the curtains and duvet. It was spacious and simple - featuring barely any decor but enough to give it a sophisticated feel. Jeremiah gestured toward the bed in the room, and Bruce sat down with mild reluctance.

“Jeremiah, tell me what’s going on” Bruce spoke, looking up at Jeremiah who was still standing, “First you blow the bridges, then you fake your death, take a bunch of territory, and now you come back and what? You lure me to a club and act like a stripper? What game are you playing at?”

“Games are so childish, my dear Bruce” Jeremiah speaks loudly, theatrically, as if he were in a musical and he was the star of the show, “Who says that I even have a play?”

Bruce scoffs, “Are you kidding me? You’re planning something, and I want to know what.”

“There are a lot of things we want, my dear, we just have to know how to get them” Jeremiah responds as he walks towards Bruce. Bruce swallows thickly, looking up at Jeremiah who is now in front of him. Jeremiah doesn’t even hesitate before he pushes Bruce down, causing him to fall flat against the bed. He then hop straight on, directly onto Bruce’s lap, straddling him like a horse. It doesn’t even cross Bruce’s mind to push him off. No, he merely just looks up at Jeremiah, who is sitting on top of him, taking off his cloak tauntingly with a wicked smirk.

“Are you sure you know what you want?” Jeremiah question as he drops the cloak to the floor. Bruce can hear the slight soft pang it makes as it hits the ground.

“Yes Jeremiah” Bruce grits his teeth, not allowing himself to fall victim to the man’s seduction. He needs to act objective. One of the most important skills in an actors toolkit was improvisation, and that was what he was doing now. He was merely adapting to his circumstances.

“Wonderful” Jeremiah tells him cheerfully, “Because I am going to allow you to get one thing that you want tonight. Any _one_  thing you want.”

Bruce frowned up at him. That sounded like a trick.

“It’s not a trick” Jeremiah states as if he could read Bruce’s mind, “If you want me to give up all of my safe houses, I will. If you want me to tell you all of my plans, I can. If you want me to give myself up and walk to the GCPD right now, I shall not hesitate” Jeremiah tells him casually, and then he’s leaning down, his hands on Bruce’s chest as he lowers himself to come closer to Bruce’s face, “But you only get one thing. So tell me, _Bruce_ , what is it you most desire?”

There are so many thoughts swarming through his head. He could get Jeremiah to give himself up, but would the man actually do it? He seemed genuine, but Bruce couldn’t be sure. He could get Jeremiah to give all of his information pertaining to the rest of the criminals in the city, which would help the GCPD immensely, but who's to say that Jeremiah wouldn’t lie?

But the one question that is the most pertinent, the one that is consuming most of his thoughts is the same question that Jeremiah asked. _What is it you most desire?_

The thing is, the answer to that one is obvious. It’s the only answer that he already knew. He can’t stop it from tumbling out of his mouth. He had always been impulsive, and Alfred told him it would get him in trouble one day. Well, that day was today.

 

“ _You_.”

 

One small alteration can completely change the answer to a problem. One small move can completely change the course of history. One small word can completely change the outcome of a situation.

Jeremiah smiles, and Bruce knows that the bastard _knew_ how Bruce would answer all along. But Bruce can’t even be angry, because the older man is lightly touching his chest, so gentle and smoothly and _it feels so good_. Bruce lets out a small breath that he didn’t know he was even holding, and he closes his eyes.

“Jeremiah?” He asks not even bothering to open his eyes, but the man doesn’t respond. He merely continues touching Bruce, and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, that really shouldn’t reassure Bruce, but for some reason it does.  
The only sound in the tranquil room is their breathing, and Bruce finds it calming. It’s like the calm before the storm - the last moment of peace before the tide breaks. Bruce revels in the feeling, because he knows it won’t last. Jeremiah is tracing small circles over collarbone as he is straddling him. It’s soothing, Bruce’s knows it shouldn’t have been, but it was. Then his hands move lower, and he’s tugging at Bruce’s coat. Bruce opens his eyes and lets him, he’s too far gone, too far consumed in the chaotic storm that was Jeremiah. He groans as Jeremiah throws his coat across the room, and then rips the buttons of his shirt open. Then he’s dragging his fingers down Bruce’s chest, slowly, it’s _tantalizing_. His fingers feel too warm, almost feverish against his chest. He can’t help but shiver at the feeling.   
  
"Jeremiah,” It's not a question this time, but it's not quite an order to stop. It's...well, it's a request. An acknowledgement. Jeremiah doesn't stop though, and Bruce knows it's because Bruce hadn't told him to stop. He still doesn't, not even when Jeremiah's hand presses flat against Bruce's skin, sliding up his chest and finding its way to his neck, where he firmly places his hand. He could’ve killed Bruce, right there in that very moment. Both of them knew it. Bruce should have been terrified, he truly should have been, but he wasn’t. Maybe there was a small moment where Bruce’s survival instincts are screaming at him, telling him that he was in danger, but those rational thoughts left just as quickly as they came. He didn’t care about the danger, no, he felt exhilarated.   
  
“So gorgeous, _darling_ ,” Jeremiah speaks, his eyes boring into Bruce’s. Bruce lets out a small whimper, unable to stop the sound before it exits his mouth. Jeremiah of course hears it, and his smile grows. He lets his hand slide, so it’s on top Bruce’s chest, and leans his head down so his lips brush Bruce’s neck, and then he’s licking. Bruce groans, the feeling of Jeremiah’s warm tongue trailing up his neck is enough to do Bruce in. He knows that there’s absolutely no stopping it now, namely because he doesn’t want it to stop, because _he’s enjoying it too much_. Suddenly Jeremiah’s lips are replacing his tongue, and he’s peppering Bruce’s neck with kisses. One of his hands is firmly on him right shoulder, and the other is exploring his chest, lightly drifting over his nipples whenever it comes into contact with them. Bruce doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but Jeremiah seems content with the fact that Bruce isn’t touching him at all.   
“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” Jeremiah says in his ear, his voice akin to a growl. Bruce is so incredibly turned on in that moment he feels as if he might explode. Then Jeremiah’s teeth dig into his neck, paired with his nails digging into his shoulder, scratching him, marking him. Bruce moans loudly, lewdly, and he reaches up to tug the necklace that’s still around Jeremiah’s neck, pulling him closer.  
  
“My my, Bruce” Jeremiah says as he lifts off his neck, their faces are only centimeters apart, he can feel the phantom pain on his neck along with Jeremiah’s hot breath panning onto his face. Jeremiah’s lipstick is partially smeared, and Bruce knows if he looked in the mirror he’d see that some of it was on his neck. “I didn’t know you wanted this as much as I do.”  
  
“Always wanted you” Bruce admits out loud. In a way he’s admitting it to himself at the same time. He always had been attracted to Jeremiah, he knew this deep down, but he’d be damned if he ever admit that to anyone (including himself, really), mostly after Jeremiah had been affected by the spray. He pushed it down, it was seemingly irrelevant, and quite frankly irrational. But now, in this moment, it was getting ripped out of him, surfacing to the top of him, the exigency of it making him feel as if his whole body was aflame in passion.

Jeremiah must have been able to see it, because he shows his hand, he offers Bruce a small smile, and it’s not wicked in the slightest as usual, he looks genuinely pleased. It makes Bruce’s heart ache a little. But he doesn’t have to think about it for long, because not even a mere second later Jeremiah is ruthlessly kissing him. Bruce opens his mouth in slight surprise, and if Jeremiah was anything he was an opportunist, because he instantly pushed his tongue inside Bruce’s mouth. Bruce readily matching Jeremiah’s paroxysm, mashing their lips together with the same out of emotion. Bruce still has a hand wrapped around Jeremiah’s necklace, and he uses that as his advantage, tugging it to draw Jeremiah in whatever direction he wants. They continue like that for a while, intertwined with each other, their lips only parting when they need air. Eventually Bruce does tug too hard on the necklace, and Jeremiah bites Bruce’s lip hard, and Bruce can taste the metallic tang almost instantaneously in his mouth. Jeremiah pulls back, and some of Bruce’s blood is stuck on his lips, and Jeremiah licks it - he swiftly puts out his tongue and removes the red liquid from his bottom lip, staring directly at Bruce as he does so. He Bruce is completely engrossed, transfixed on the man in front of him. Bruce whimpers for the second time that night, and Jeremiah looks downright devilish.

“You taste so good, Bruce” He remarks, and Bruce notices that his concealer on his face is starting to come because of their previous activity, showcasing his porcelain skin, “I can’t help but wonder how the rest of you tastes.”

If Bruce wasn’t already sporting a boner, he would have certainly gotten one from that sentence. The cadence of his voice paired with the crude words was enough to do him in alone.

“I already told you I want you, so let me have _you_ ” Bruce growls, almost animalistic, he’s done with the taunting and teasing. He pulls Jeremiah by the necklace again, extra rough, and Jeremiah comes tumbling down next to him. Bruce swiftly moves, straddling Jeremiah before he even has the chance to comprehend what Bruce is doing. Bruce can feel Jeremiah’s boner rubbing against his ass, and it makes his jeans feel even more tight. Jeremiah laughs as Bruce sits atop him, a slightly maniacal sound that shouldn’t be as titillating as it is.

“You always want to be in control, I shouldn’t be surprised you act the same in bed” Jeremiah says, still giggling to himself as if that were a particularly funny comment. Bruce rolled his eyes.

“ _Shut up_ ” Bruce says before he moves slightly on top him, grinding his ass directly on Jeremiah’s hard member. Jeremiah does shut up, he lets out a breathy groan, and he grabs a hold of Bruce’s thighs.

“Would you mind losing the pants? I’m feeling a little under dressed here” Jeremiah comments as he pulls at Bruce’s jeans.

Bruce does as he’s told, and moves slightly off Jeremiah so he can remove his trousers and throw them to the ground. Now they are both almost nude, Jeremiah only in his small shorts and Bruce merely in a pair of briefs. Bruce is about to get back on top of Jeremiah, but the man is quick, and he pins Bruce down onto the bed. Bruce should have known better, telling him to lose the pants was a ploy so Jeremiah could gain the upper hand. Typical.

Jeremiah grabs a hold of both of Bruce hands, pinning them above his head. Bruce tries to move out of the tight grasp, but Jeremiah doesn’t even flinch.

“I am going to completely ruin you” Jeremiah tells him, and Bruce can’t help but slightly frown at the words. _Who is to say that you haven’t done that already?_ Bruce wants to reply but he can’t for some reason find the words. Jeremiah leaves a small kiss on Bruce’s pouted lips, the most gentle one he has given him, and then he’s kissing down his jaw, ravishing his neck yet again, still keeping Bruce’s arms above his head. Bruce knows that trying to cover the marks is going to be a nightmare, but he wholeheartedly doesn’t care. Jeremiah obviously doesn’t care either, moving further down to leave kisses and hickies from his neck to his collarbone. He then begins to venture down, and he lets go of Bruce’s arms as he kissing down Bruce’s chest, down his abs, right to the hem of his briefs.

“You can still tell me to stop, you know” Jeremiah says as he looks up, his face his so close to Bruce’s hard on, making Bruce barely able to function coherently.

“I know” Bruce replies easily, and gives Jeremiah an encouraging smile. Jeremiah takes that as his okay, and he kisses down Bruce’s briefs, mouthing at Bruce’s boner through the fabric. Bruce moans and grasps the blanket underneath himself until his knuckles are white. Bruce feels weak, almost in a state of haze with the overload of pleasure and just pure want. Jeremiah’s mouth is working skillfully, completely undoing Bruce, making him lose complete control. Jeremiah eventually drags himself back up to Bruce’s lips, and they are kissing again. Jeremiah is rough with actions, he’s ruthless, merciless, and Bruce loves it. His hands eventually venture under Bruce’s waistband, and he’s teases Bruce slowly, it feels as if it’s forever before Jeremiah’s fingers are thumbing at the head of his cock, traveling down his length. Then, suddenly Jeremiah tugs, and Bruce moans loud, breaking off their kiss. Jeremiah just leers over him, and continues.  
It doesn't stop there. Not for what could’ve been minutes, not for what could’ve been hours. Somewhere in there, the deep red blankets are kicked off the bed and tossed on the floor atop their long discarded clothes, and Bruce watches as Jeremiah thrusts into him, and all he wants is more. All of it. He isn't sure he'll ever get enough. He _knows_ he won’t. Eventually, though, they both collapse in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs, and heaving breaths. Jeremiah gets up rather quickly, the majority of the makeup that was covering his skin was now gone, and even more so when Jeremiah grabs a rag to clean them off, and one to drag across his skin. Bruce steadies himself on his left shoulder and watches as Jeremiah wipes the rag across his body, revealing the almost inhuman white skin. His hair has lost its slicked back style, it’s soft and flowing, and _gorgeous_. Everything about him is.

He tosses Bruce his briefs back to him, which the younger boy graciously accepts and he watches as Jeremiah pulls his own shorts back on.  
  
“Come back to bed” Bruce murmurs out. Jeremiah almost looked as if he were about to bolt, and Bruce didn’t like that. Jeremiah narrows his eyes for a moment, but does as he’s told and lies next to Bruce, facing him so they are nose to nose, almost touching, yet separated. God, he looks beautiful.

  
 _This is how it should have been_ , Bruce thinks as he looks at the man next to him, and it hurts. Jeremiah slowly puts his freehand up and lightly places it on Bruce’s jaw. Bruce nuzzles into his rough hand, and Jeremiah hums in response.

“You can stay with me. We can rule this city like we are supposed to. _Together_ ” Jeremiah says, and Bruce can’t help but feel his heart slightly crack. The feeling of lust now leaving him, but the feelings toward Jeremiah still there. His rational thoughts have now returned, and they are screaming at him, asking him _why_ he acted so irrationally, asking him _why_ he let himself be consumed by Jeremiah, asking him _why_ he would lose himself to the criminal, _why_ would he do something when he knew the outcome wouldn’t be savory, when he knew there was no possibility for a happy ending. _Why?_

These questions were just like the ones from earlier. The one that caused him to get into this mess in the first place.

 

What is it you most desire?

_Him._

Why?

_Because you care about him. You might even love him._

 

Another simple answer, yet it wasn’t so simple, was it?

“No” Bruce responds. Not unkindly, but not softly either. Jeremiah blinks at him in clear surprise, drawing his hand away.

“No?” Jeremiah questions, “You said the one thing you wanted most was me, I am only trying to give you that” Jeremiah seems confused by Bruce’s refusal, genuinely lost, as if Bruce was the one that was insane, not him. Maybe that was true.

“Yes.. but not like this” Bruce tells him as he pushes away. _Not on opposing sides. Not with you trying to ruin the city instead of helping it. Not like this._

Jeremiah scoffs, loudly, harshly and it’s like something inside of him snaps. The emotions on his face quickly collapse, and the stoic Jeremiah he remembers from the day the bridges blew is back again, “ _Really_ , Bruce?” His voice is full of bitterness and annoyance, as if he couldn’t even stand the sight of Bruce. They are only mere centimeters apart yet he feels so far away. His drawl of disdain is now back in full, “That is so boring. I gave you a quick fuck, didn’t I? Do you really have to leave so soon?”

“Has this all just been a ruse for you? _Part of your plan?_ ” Bruce angrily asks, realizing the demeanor change happened far too quickly, far too easily. Something wasn’t right. How couldn’t Bruce tell?

Jeremiah doesn’t respond at first, and gives Bruce an expression that can only be described as pity. “Of course not, darling. I personally thought the sex was great” He says slowly, “Beyond that… well…”

“You manipulative son of a-“

“Now now, that’s no way to treat the man you just slept with” Jeremiah chides as he rolls off the bed and stands up, now putting his cloak back on his shoulders. It’s shrouds him like a cape, like an impenetrable veil, making it impossible to get to him.

“So what? You.. you slept with me so I would stay with you? So I’d join you in your quest to rule the city?” Bruce’s voice is rising as he asks the questions, he feel _used_ , he feels _cheated_ , he feels _hurt_.

“I’m a criminal. And I’m a liar” Jeremiah breathes out, “How did you think this was going to end?” Jeremiah asks harshly, but the underlying amusement still lacing his words.

“I thought you were finally done playing your games” Bruce just fires back at him. Jeremiah just hums and doesn’t reply, putting his shoes on before he walks to the door. Bruce thinks again about tackling him, beating him so hard that Bruce could just drag him to the GCPD, but he can’t. He’s stuck in place, frozen, unable to stop him.

“For what it’s worth” Jeremiah suddenly says, his back turned to Bruce and his hand on the doorknob, “I do think games are childish and I meant what I said. I would’ve done anything _you_ wanted me to do. Even if it meant turning myself in.”

“Why?” Bruce asks. It doesn’t make any sense. Jeremiah followed a criminal’s code. _Quid pro quo_. He only did things if he could get something out of it. So why?

“There are a lot of things we want, we just have to know how to get them” Jeremiah repeats his statement from earlier as he turns to face Bruce one last time, a pensive look plastered on his face, “Sometimes we’ll do anything.”

“Are you seriously being crypti-“ Bruce can’t even finish his sentence because Jeremiah is interrupting, looking so genuine, and so vulnerable that Bruce knows he can’t be lying.

“Because the one thing I wanted most was _you_ ” Jeremiah says, and he doesn’t sound like the cold-hearted killer when he says it. No, he sounds like the jittery yet heartfelt man that Bruce had met that day in the bunker, the one that had a soft smile and a will to do good. The one that fell out of Bruce’s hands far too quickly.

Jeremiah told him earlier he wanted to ruin him, but in reality he ruined him the moment they laid eyes on each other in that damn bunker, because it was honest to god cruel, it was ruining, for Jeremiah to make him love him, only to turn his back and break him like this.

It’s as if it’s Jeremiah’s last moment of clarity, of _sanity_ , before he loses it all. Maybe it’s Bruce’s last moment too.

“Maybe I’ll have better luck next time. Be seein’ you, darling” Is the last thing Jeremiah vocalizes, and the last thing Bruce sees is his roguish smirk, before he’s leaving the room, leaving Bruce alone on the bed. Bruce can almost hear his phantom laugh echoing through the room, a ghastly symphony, a haunting burlesque, just a last remainder of the apparition of the man that Bruce knew. That Bruce maybe even _loved_.

He puts his head in his hands as the realization hits him that he has definitively lost Jeremiah. He doesn’t know how long he stays in that room, but when he goes back into the club things have quieted down to a dull roar, almost all the patrons now gone, the music no longer blaring and the lights not as bright. He makes eye contact with Peaché across the room, who has changed into different attire.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere” Peaché tells him as she walks up to him, but then pauses as she looks him up and down, “You alright, Wayne?” Peaché asks slowly. He knows his appearance is rough. His eyes are red and bloodshot from crying, his shirt’s buttons are all broken, and he has hickies littering his neck and collar.

“Fine” He grounds out, trying to keep his voice even, “What do you want?”

“Jester walked in here about an hour ago. Told me to give this to you” She says as she holds out her hand, the necklace that Jeremiah was wearing earlier dangling from her fingers.

It’s the first real time that Bruce looks at it, and realizes what it is. It’s a simple silver chain, but on the end of it lays a pendant. It’s in the shape of a _B_.

Bruce takes it out of her hands and the metal feels cold against his hands. He shivers at the feeling, and clutches it close. Maybe he no longer remained upon Jeremiah’s heart, but one thing was certain, Jeremiah would always remain upon his.


End file.
